


That Which Lingers Still

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e03 The Midterms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-18
Updated: 2000-11-18
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: You've been more of a pain in the ass than usual lately, do you realize that?





	That Which Lingers Still

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

That Which Lingers Still

Author: Cat 

Summary: An episode addition to "The Midterms." CJ/Toby. Spoilers for "The Midterms", obviously, and "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen."

Disclaimer: They belong to Aaron Sorkin. I'm merely borrowing them, hoping to preserve what's left of my sanity.

This is one of many episode additions I have sitting on my hard drive. As usual, it would not leave me alone. I don't know why I decided to share it, but here it is. Feedback is lovely, constructive criticism is welcome. Just please don't swing a cricket bat at my head ;-)

For L., my VIBE girl in crime. This is so your fault <g>. And for Morgan, for writing "In The Blood," which has been haunting me for weeks.

*********************************************************************

C.J. Cregg sighed as she slipped the phone back into the cradle. She turned her chair and stared out the window into the black night. It was late and all she wanted to do was get home and go to bed. The last several weeks had been exhausting. She just wanted to not think for a while.

A knock on the door interrupted her musings.

"C.J.? Toby's here."

Involuntarily, her body tensed. She was too tired for another confrontation. But he was here already. And she did need to see the remarks on Asia-Pacific before she went home.

"Thanks Carol, why don't you head on home, I don't need anything else tonight," she said, without turning from the window.

"See you tomorrow, C.J."

"Yeah."

She heard the door close as Carol left the room. The silence that followed was palpable.

Then she heard the sound of papers sliding across her desk.

"Thank you. Are you heading out for the night?"

"No."

At that she swiveled her chair around. Their eyes met and held for a long moment before Toby dropped his gaze to his hands.

"Are you?"

"Not yet, I want to read over the President's remarks before I leave." She reached for the copy he'd set on her desk and half-heartedly flipped through the pages.

He took in the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor in her cheeks. She hadn't looked this worn earlier. She was still beautiful though. Nothing could change that. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen her smile. Then again, there hadn't been much to smile about lately.

"You look tired," he observed softly.

She raised her eyes from the paper in front of her and met his once again. The hesitancy she saw there eased the tense set of her shoulders just a bit. But the weariness she also detected worried her. Their earlier argument came rushing back.

"So do you. Listen, Toby...about what happened earlier--"

"C.J., I really don't want to have this conversation again. I don't want to argue with you anymore," he interrupted quickly, his defenses rising. It irritated him how she could do that. How she could disarm him with a glance. She was the only one who could do that. It was something he didn't like to think a great deal about.

"I don't want to argue with you either Toby, but you need to talk to someone about whatever is bothering you. You've been more of a pain in the ass than usual lately, do you realize that? What's more, your focus isn't on your job, it's on bringing down these hate groups!" She was on her feet now, needing to move, needing to get out from behind her desk.

"I don't want to talk about this. I don't need to talk to a damn shrink. And there's nothing wrong with my focus," he said sharply.

"Toby, I was THERE, remember? There were bullets flying at my head! And at first, the only thing I could remember was the gunfire, the screaming, the pavement, and the sheer terror. I was so scared Toby, I was scared for myself, for the President, for Leo...Sam, Josh.... you. I didn't know whether or not any of you were dead or alive."

Her voice trailed off, soft but clear. She'd stopped her pacing and was standing in the middle of her office. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she was reliving the shooting in her mind. Her body stiffened and the long, elegant fingers of her right hand slowly curled up into a clenched fist.

"C.J." he said quietly. After a moment, he reached over, gently took her fist in his hand and carefully unfurled her fingers, the delicate bones cracking in protest. He winced imperceptibly at angry redness of the four small half-moon shaped indentations marring her skin. He slid his fingers up to grasp her wrist as his other thumb began making slow circles over her palm, willing the marks to disappear.

Finally he raised his head. She was staring at him, her eyes crystal-clear and piercing. His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth and then returned, steady and heated, to her own.

"Don't do this," he said firmly, his voice low and insistent.

The hint of anger in his voice and the intensity blazing from his dark eyes were her undoing. Her shoulders sagged, the tension seeping out of body.

"Toby," she whispered. Something flickered in his eyes.

"C.J., don't...don't do this, okay? It's not--" he sighed, unconsciously tightening his grip on her wrist, and ducked his head, irritated at his uncharacteristic loss of words.

"Don't what, Toby? Think about what happened? Replay it over and over again in my head? Contemplate for a terrifying moment the 'what-ifs'?" she bit out, suddenly furious. She stepped back, attempting to tug her hand from his.

He reached and quickly grasped her other hand, ignoring the warning flash in her eyes. "C.J., I didn't mean that--" he started.

"What if it had been me instead of Josh?" she continued and then froze, startled by the indefinable look that crossed his face and the swift clench in his jaw. She was unaccustomed to seeing Toby so unnerved.

'Me instead of Josh, me instead of Josh.' The words echoed in his head and he saw Josh lying on the ground, his eyes empty, the dark blood creeping between his fingers...and then Josh became C.J. and for a split second, his heart stopped. All of a sudden, the image was gone. But the panic he'd felt when he saw Josh remained and his breathing became unsteady.

"Toby?" she questioned, her voice slightly alarmed at his abrupt, almost bruising grip on her wrists.

He shook his head, turning his attention to their joined hands. He loosened his grasp, stricken by the pale white impressions, obvious on her lightly tanned skin. Marks shaped like his fingers. He'd hurt her.

"I'm sorry." He whispered hoarsely. He dropped her hands, almost throwing them away, and slipped past her.

"I don't want to talk about this. Not now, C.J." He sat down on her couch and put his face in his hands.

"You were the one who found Josh," she said slowly, sliding into the chair in front of her desk. "I can't imagine how that felt."

Toby was still, silent. It struck her as unusual. Not that Toby had never been still or silent before, but this was different. Toby was a passionate man. And a brilliant one. He was always thinking, always focused on something. But right now, he seemed to be completely out of sorts. It was like he was gathering his defenses again, trying desperately to rebuild his walls. She couldn't let that happen this time. He was her friend and he was suffering. She refused to let him keep bottling this up and then exploding at everyone.

"You can't continue on like this Toby. You're driving yourself too hard and it's not getting you anywhere. You think if you keep going, keep trying to get the rest of us, the rest of the country to address the issue, you won't have to do it yourself. Am I right?"

Toby shifted on the couch, uncomfortable with how well she knew him, how easily she could read his thoughts.

"You don't have to go talk to a shrink, you know. You can talk to Leo, or Sam, or even the President. You can talk to me. It might even help for you to talk to Josh." She said, her eyes never leaving him. Then she hesitated, knowing what his reaction to her next suggestion would be, but wanting him to consider it, nonetheless.

"You could take a leave of absence." C.J. said, her tone cautious.

"No, absolutely not." His response came immediately, firmly.

"Toby...." she sighed, unsurprised but frustrated.

"C.J., no. We're 3 weeks away from the elections; this is most definitely NOT the time for me to be taking a leave of absence. And even if we didn't have to worry about getting through the arduous hell of attempting to take back the House in the next few weeks, I wouldn't want to take time off."

Against her will, C.J.'s lips curved up in a small smile. That sounded more like Toby. She rose from the chair and joined him on the couch. An exhausted sigh escaped as she crossed her legs, folded her hands in her lap, and turned to face him.

"Toby, can you at least promise me something?" she said, tilting her head to the side, trying to catch his eye.

He looked up at her and was momentarily captivated by the picture before him. The light from her desk lamp highlighted her hair, dancing through the golden strands and giving it a warm glow. Her cheekbones stood out in stark contrast to the shadows under them. Her elegantly shaped eyebrows arched expectantly and, despite their weariness, her mercurial eyes were luminous, surrounded by a generous sweep of dark lashes. And at the moment, they were watching him intently, as she awaited his reply.

"What is it?"

"Promise me that you'll talk to us, or at least to me. And stop driving yourself into the ground with these hate groups. Please. I do understand what you're feeling towards them. I understand why you want to hold them all responsible. But we can't, Toby. And you know that. All we can do is keep getting up in the morning, keep coming to work. Keep trying."

She paused, uncertain, and then reached over to grasp his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Promise me you'll do that."

He stared down at their intertwined fingers and then turned her palm up, idly tracing patterns with his thumb, his mind on this woman before him. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have her in his life. That this stunning, incredibly intelligent, passionate woman willingly put up with him was nothing short of astounding. Her strength, her dedication, her compassion...in spite of all they had endured, here she was, offering these things to him, to their friends, to the country.

Abruptly, he shook his head, annoyed with himself for going off on such a cliché-ridden tangent, regardless of how true it might be. And C.J. was waiting for his answer again.

He raised his head and opened his mouth to speak and stopped. She was gazing absorbedly at their hands with an odd look in her eyes, lips parted, her breathing quick and light. He realized he was still stroking her palm. His hand halted. Time seemed to slow. Fleeting hesitancy crossed her face before she deliberately raised her eyes to meet his. Electricity sparked between them for one frozen moment. Then C.J. closed her eyes, visibly trying to regain her composure. Toby cleared his throat. Desperate to break the awkward silence, C.J. returned to their conversation.

"You haven't answered my question," she reminded him.

He sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice," he muttered reluctantly.

"I did," she replied, her tone firm yet affectionate, eyes dancing with amusement and exasperation.

"I promise to try," he said, ducking his head.

"Toby."

He paused, and then met her look, his brown eyes steady. "C.J.... I promise to try," he repeated.

She searched his face. "Okay."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. C.J. laid her head back on the couch, and stretched like a cat, arching her back. His eyes followed the smooth movement, drawn to the curve of her exposed throat.

"You need to go home and get some sleep, C.J.," he said, his insistent tone probably more for his own benefit than hers.

She glanced at her desk and then at the clock.

"The President's remarks on Asia-Pacific will wait until tomorrow," Toby said, easily interpreting her look.

"And I assume you're leaving as well," she responded with a graceful lift of her eyebrow, her words more of a statement than a question.

He understood this look too. She wouldn't leave unless he agreed to also.

Toby sighed heavily. "Yes, I'll be leaving as well," he grumbled.

She rewarded him with a dazzling smile, the smirk in her eyes telling him that she knew she'd won. In return, he shot an irritated, if defeated, glare in her direction. He waited as she packed up her briefcase and helped her put on her coat, his hand unconsciously drifting to the small of her back to guide her out.

"Josh is climbing the walls again, I think I'm going to head over there tomorrow after work," she said, flicking the light switch and plunging the room into darkness.

"Why is it Donna lets you see him so often, and not me?" he wondered, reaching for the doorknob.

"Maybe it's because I refuse to let him get all riled up about work," she retorted mildly.

"You know, with the two of you hovering around him all the time, the guy doesn't need his mother," Toby responded, his voice fading as he shut the door and they continued down the hallway towards his office.

Finis

  

  


End file.
